Outside
by reading
Summary: Dean calls Luke. Post Jus in Bello. Strangers and Angels 'verse


Post-Jus in Bello

_Outside_

_Post-Jus in Bello_

_xxxx_

"_Again, the devil took Him to a very high mountain and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory; and he said to Him, 'All these things I will give You, if You fall down and worship me.' Then Jesus said to him, 'Go, Satan! For it is written, "You shall worship the __Lord__ your God, and serve Him only."'" Matt. 4:8-11._

xxxx

"Yeah." Luke Sweed spoke into his cell phone even as his eyes never left the form in front of him. _Add lines 35 and 63._ His eyes went back to line 35. He didn't have anything in line 35. _Crap._

"Luke?"

"Yeah," he said again distractedly. _What was supposed to be in line 35?_

"It's Dean."

That brought Luke's head up and focused his attention on the voice on the other end of the phone. "Dean, hey! Long time, no hear, kiddo."

"Uh, yeah. We…." The discomfort in the voice was palpable.

"That wasn't meant to be a dig, Dean," Luke said. "Just an observation."

"Yeah. Well."

The awkward silence that followed made Luke's chest tighten uncomfortably. He and Jo had been talking about the Winchesters just the night before, wanting to reach out, but rebuffed by the long stretch of non-communication by the boys recently. Both he and Jo had left messages with Sam and Dean that hadn't been returned in weeks. They suspected they were being avoided. And while on one level they understood, they were also increasingly worried.

"How are y'all doing?" Luke offered. Dean had called him, but didn't seem eager to talk.

"Fine," came the expected reply. Luke bit back a sigh. There'd been a time when Luke thought Dean would have talked to him. But now, even across the distance, Luke could feel the walls Dean had built around himself since they'd last spoken.

"Good," Luke said. "Good." What next? _Still going to hell, son? Your brother exhibiting any worrisome traits?_ Luke had no idea where to take this conversation.

"Uh. How about you guys?" Dean asked haltingly, evidently no surer than Luke what to do.

It was an offering of sorts, and Luke took it gladly, running through the latest on each member of the family, pleased by the huffs of laughter and follow up questions from Dean as he talked.

When he finished his update, Luke let the silence stretch out for a beat, more comfortable now. Easier.

"What's going on, Dean?" he asked finally. He didn't believe for a minute that Dean had called just to check in.

"Yeah," Dean said in resignation. He paused. "I don't know how those wanted things work, but you may get one that says Sam and I are dead." He hesitated again. "We're not. Obviously. I just didn't… We didn't want you to worry."

Luke took a second to absorb this. "OK," he said. He was going to have to check his alerts. He hadn't seen anything. And Matt hadn't said anything. "What happened?" he finally asked, wondering what kind of response he'd get from the younger man.

There was another long pause and a surprisingly shaky sigh. "It's a long story."

Luke moved his paper work to the side. "I got plenty of time," he said blandly.

Dean didn't respond immediately, and Luke forced himself not to try to fill in the silence.

"We, uh, we got caught," Dean finally started. "In Colorado a couple of days ago. The Fed that was after us showed up and…"

Luke found himself holding his breath in reaction to the hesitancy in Dean's voice. As if the sound of his breathing might startle Dean off.

"A bunch of demons surrounded the podunk police station where they were holding us and trapped us. Me and Sam and everyone else in there. We, uh, fought our way clear, and Hendrickson, well, you know, it was hard for him not to believe us any more after he'd, you know, seen it. So he let us go. Said he'd say we were dead. Had been killed when the helicopter blew up."

Luke's eyebrows went up into his hairline. _A helicopter blew up? What the hell?_ But he didn't say it. Didn't say anything at all.

Dean had stopped, but Luke didn't feel like that was the end. Didn't think it could be given Dean's manner. He waited.

Dean cleared his throat—a tell, Luke knew. That Dean was upset, trying not to show it.

"We, uh, found out later that after we left another demon showed up. Killed him. Killed everyone that was left." He cleared his throat again. "But I guess Hendrickson had already called in that we were dead because that's what the official story is."

Luke closed his eyes, nodding to himself. Relief that the Winchesters were off the grid now, hopefully for good. But an ache in his belly, too. For the same thing, for the grief he heard in Dean's voice.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "That it happened that way."

"Yeah," Dean agreed heavily.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering how to follow up on what he'd just heard. "Are you boys OK?" he asked.

The silence that followed the question made Luke shift in his chair, unconsciously leaning forward in anticipation.

"Yeah." Another uneasy pause. "We're fine."

It was like Dean was begging to be pressed, but Luke knew he'd need to tread carefully. Because there was pressing and there was _pressing_ with this kid. And Dean would only respond to the first if it was done delicately.

"Yeah?" Luke asked. Gave Dean an opening. Waited to see if the younger man would take it.

The lack of response in and of itself was telling.

"Do you… do you believe that it's better to sacrifice one person and save a bunch of people than to save one person and have a bunch of other people die?"

Luke blinked. _What the __hell__…?_ Luke stopped. _Hell_ _is right_, he thought grimly.

"I guess it depends," Luke started carefully. "Is the sacrifice willing?" He paused. "And will it _really_ save other people?" He bit his lip. "Or is that just the story that's being sold?"

Dean didn't say anything.

"Tell me what happened, Dean," Luke urged gently. "It's hard to answer that kind of question without any context."

Dean was quiet for so long Luke wondered if he'd answer at all.

"When we were trapped," Dean finally started, "a girl we've… we've been working with… said she could get us out… if we … sacrificed this other girl. She said that if we sacrificed this girl that everyone else would live. Just the one girl would die."

Luke felt like his entire body had turned to ice. "Dean…," he whispered. "Please tell me you didn't…"

"We didn't." Dean's voice was quiet, not defensive. _They'd considered it then._

Luke put a shaking hand to his mouth. _Dear God._

"We didn't," Dean said again. "But Sam…" Dean stopped and there was another loaded pause.

Luke frowned. _Was Sam obsessing over the fact that they'd thought about it at all? Blaming Dean? When it was this girl, who…?_ Luke's scowl deepened. _Wait. What girl?_

"It's just that…" Dean had continued on, unaware of the turmoil in Luke's head. "We fought our way out and thought we were clear. But. After we were gone, the demon went back to the police station and killed them all. Killed Hendrickson, the deputy. The girl we… She died anyway, and…"

Dean had faltered to a stop.

Luke dug his fingertips into his forehead.

"Dean. Listen to me. You did the _right_ thing. There are lines you don't cross, no matter what the cost. Do you understand me? This girl who died. Dean, you didn't kill her. The demon killed her. And Hendrickson and the deputy. It's tragic, Dean. It is. But it is _not_ your fault. It may be hard to believe, but there's integrity even in the fighting of a war."

"But." Dean offered it quietly. "If we'd… if she was going to die anyway. And Hendrickson and the deputy would have been saved…. Maybe it would have…"

"Dean." Luke couldn't stop himself from cutting Dean off. "Do you think it would have been worth it to the two men who died to be saved that way?" he asked sharply.

"No," Dean said softly, without hesitation.

"I would think not," Luke said. "And what guarantee did you have that they really wouldn't have died?"

There was no answer to that.

"Dean, I know I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, but… Scripture calls Satan "the father of lies" and "the deceiver." And his servants are true to their master. They _lie_. And even when they do tell the truth they're still deceivers. Even when they tempt us with the truth, they're never – _never_ – telling the whole story."

Dean still didn't say anything and Luke could only hope it was because he was thinking about what Luke was saying.

"Don't lose sight of who the enemy is, Dean, do you hear me?"

Luke had told himself he'd have to go softly with Dean on this, to get the boy to talk to him, but this idea of sacrificing someone, of Sam and Dean _considering_ it and Dean wondering … It had thrown him so badly, he hadn't been able to keep the urgency and command out of his voice.

"Dean, are you listening to me?" Luke couldn't control the snap in his tone, knew he sounded more like a father than a friend.

"Yes, sir."

Luke closed his eyes at the pain in the subdued voice, and forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. It's just… You're scaring the crap out of me, kiddo" he finished shakily.

"Sorry." Dean's whisper was like a knife in Luke's chest.

Luke didn't respond for a long minute, trying to get his thoughts in some sort of order, half-way afraid that Dean would end the call, but unable to find the words he wanted and needed to say. Thankfully, Dean stayed on the line.

"OK," Luke finally breathed out. "Listen, Dean. I know that you and Sam are dealing with some pretty weighty stuff right now. That you're trying to figure out how to break the deal, how to keep you out of hell. But…. Dean, don't…. Just…."

Luke stopped, still not coherent. He tried again to gather his wits and didn't say anything for a long time, incredibly grateful again that Dean didn't seem in the mood to try to hang up or hurry him along.

"Dean, do you remember when… when we talked about choice? About Sam having to make choices and you… you being the one who… could … who might be able to help him make the right ones?"

It had been months ago. In the aftermath of John's own choice to give himself for Dean. Sitting on the floor of the barn, trying to help Dean make sense of what had happened.

"Yeah." Almost inaudible.

"I don't think that's changed," Luke said softly, uncertainly. "I think there are choices—hard choices—impossible choices—that y'all are going to have to make in the next weeks."

_Dear God. Was it only weeks left? Were they that close to losing Dean, to… ? _ Luke cleared his throat, hand scrubbing hard across his eyes. _Jesus, please…_

"And, Dean. I want you to be careful about the choices you make. There are going to be temptations…. For both of you. And I don't… don't sacrifice more than you already have, kiddo, OK?"

Luke knew the tears were audible in his voice. Knew that he didn't have the right to ask Dean not to do whatever he and Sam thought might be necessary to save him. But he couldn't _not_ advise caution. Couldn't tell Dean, as much as he might want to, that it was worth _any_ cost to save him from hell.

Because as much as he loved this kid… As much as he would sacrifice _himself_ to save this boy from what seemed to be coming, Luke knew that there were sacrifices in a war like this that should not – that _could_ not – be made. Not and stay on the side of the angels.

And he couldn't help but worry about what the Winchester brothers would sacrifice for each other. Because hadn't they seen that already in Dean's deal with the demon to save Sam? Was there a possibility that Sam would give in to a similar temptation?

Was that part of what was troubling Dean so much? Concern about what Sam might do? Concern about what Sam had already done that Dean would not share with Luke?

"Dean." Luke made his voice firm, steadied himself. Dean didn't need him dithering and emotional. The kid needed something solid under his feet. Someone who could and would tell him that he'd made the right choice. That he would make the right choices. And could help Sam do the same thing. "Listen to me, OK? I suspect that there's something you're not telling me."

Dean didn't say anything, and Luke took it as the confirmation it was that his assumption was correct. He took another steadying breath.

"Whatever it is, Dean. _Whatever_ it is, you trust your instincts, you hear me? You've got good ones, Dean. You made the right decision not to sacrifice an innocent, kiddo, whatever happened later. The _right_ decision. Don't second guess that."

Luke stopped, waiting to see if Dean would respond.

"OK," Dean's assent came slowly, and Luke nodded his relief into the receiver.

"Good," Luke said. He paused, the uneasiness in his stomach not settling in the least. "Dean…" he started.

"I gotta go," Dean cut him off.

In the background, Luke heard a door slam and the sound of Sam asking a question. A beat. "Luke." To Sam. Another beat. No shouted greeting.

"Sam says 'hey,'" Dean said carefully.

"Tell him 'hey' back," Luke returned, knowing that the conversation was over. "I'll let you go," he said. "But Dean. You call me any time, OK? Whether I know exactly what's going on or not, I'm always here." He couldn't stop himself from offering what he hoped might be a lifeline.

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah," he whispered and Luke could hear what sounded like a kind of despair across the miles. "Thanks."

"You boys take care. We love you." _You're not alone_.

"Uh, yeah. Us, too."

Luke hung up the phone, and put his head in his hands, taking deep breaths, not sure what to do about the gaping pit that had opened itself in his gut during his conversation with Dean.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

xxxx

The End.


End file.
